


The Loneliest Night

by UnitedKingdomOrgy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Contemplation of Suicide, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnitedKingdomOrgy/pseuds/UnitedKingdomOrgy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia finds herself undeniably alone when Peter feels her pain and comes to remind her that she is not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loneliest Night

Lydia’s life was falling apart and there was nothing even her brilliant mind could think up on how to fix it.

Her parents were downstairs arguing about the divorce settlement and who got what.

Originally her father had come back into town to have dinner with Lydia but that never happened.

She was alone. Completely alone; even in her head.

Three months and four days since she dug up Peter Hale. He made good on his promise to leave her alone. At least he kept his word and told the truth unlike everyone else in her life.

It had been three months to the day Lydia’s ‘love’ brought Jackson back from the dead giving him second life as a werewolf. She thought they would live happily ever after, well as happy as werewolves could be.

That did not happen.

Jackson’s temper ripened.

He was more self absorbed than he was before which was a feat of its own.

Jackson’s need to be the dominant one was a hard thing to accomplish since he was a ‘Beta’ and Derek Hale was an ‘Alpha’.

Lydia, at Derek’s behest, tried to quell Jackson’s anger with love.

He yelled, screamed and cursed. Derek and the others would defend her but it struck a chord deep inside her.

It brought back all the times he humiliated her and mentally abused her but she stayed with him. She was a strong woman, intelligent and powerful. She knew she could handle it.

Not anymore.

Jackson’s father decided to move to London for work. Jackson went with him.

Derek taught him enough to _control_ his changes during the full moon but the rest of his survival was up to Jackson himself.

So now, she was alone.

No school work to distract her or meaningless pursuits.

There were moments when she would open the medicine cabinet and see her mother’s anti depressants and briefly think about taking them. The thought only lingered for a moment.

Lydia Martin was too strong and intelligent to attempt suicide. That was a weak move.

Tonight was a bad night. Hearing her parents scream from downstairs was getting to her.

Lydia had to get away from all this for the sake of her own sanity.

She walked right past her fighting parents and out the door. They were too busy at each other’s throats to even notice her.

Through the woods she walked, the crisp night air tickling the exposed parts of her skin.

It was an invigorating feeling.

The small sound of rushing water echoed against the trees. The leaves danced in the wind.

Lydia decides to follow the sound to a small stream.

She kicked off her shoes.

Gently, toe by toe, she entered the cold water.

She smiled and splashed her feet around for a moment. Five seconds of happiness.

It wasn’t long enough though. The stress and anxiety came flooding back in.

She crouched down holding her knees against her chest and wept.

The water of the stream soaked into her clothes.

She must have wept for what seemed like hours. She only knew because her eyes were heavy and she wanted to sleep.

Lydia’s body wanted to fall to its side and remain in a fetal position while the stream would literally drown her sorrows away.

It did just that, but her body never met the water.

Warm hands scooped her up and carried her muddy soaking wet body through the woods.

“Alright you, let’s get you cleaned up and warm.”

She knew this voice but only in her nightmares. Why was it offering comfort now?

 

She fell asleep in his arms. His warmth was soothing.

The sound of running water woke her.

She was in her bathroom but still in his arms.

Peter stepped into the shower with Lydia. He sat them comfortably in the tub as the hot water poured over them.

His fingers combed through her soaked red locks, pulling them away from her red blotched yet still pretty face.

She began to cry again. It wasn’t because of him, oh no.

It was because she was so unhappy with her life and the people, or lack there of, in it.

Loneliness was a bitter battle for Lydia, one she often won but not now.

Peter kissed the back of her head lightly several times for comfort.

His arms wrapped securely around her for protection.

Regardless of the recent history, Peter did care for Lydia; he dared to even say that a part of him loved her quite deeply. He would never admit it to any one but her though.

Slowly through Lydia’s sobs Peter began to strip her of the muddy clothes. He cleaned the mud off her perfect skin.

He turned her and positioned her so they were face to face.

A small dab of Lydia’s face wash was lathered in his hand; his fingers gently washed away the make up stains left behind from the tears.

Her sorrowed and sore green eyes stared deep into his icy blues.

After her face was clean, Peter shut the water off.

She stood out from the tub. She had enough will power to dry herself off. Peter stood dripping dry in the shower. He could care less about himself right now, he was worried about her.

He was still connected to her; he had felt her heart break, her gut wrenching sorrow in what was left of his heart.

Lydia stepped to Peter with the towel in her hands.

She reached for his hands and dried them one by one. Peter took the towel to dry the rest of himself off.

She left the bathroom to change into dry clothes. Peter stripped out of his own soaking clothes and into the dry ones he had thankfully brought.

Lydia sat on the end of her bed dazed and silent.

Her brain, her brilliant brain was quiet and empty of all thought. It had been taken over by awful feelings. Worthlessness, depression, anxiety, fear and loss.

Peter climbed onto the bed and positioned his-self behind her. He remembered from when he was in her head that the single most comforting thing for her was having her hair combed and braided.

He grabbed the brush from her night stand. Gently and lovingly stroked through her hair, the bristles untangled each strand.

Now tangle free, his fingers grabbed three large sections and began to braid.

As he braided her hair, his ears tuned onto Lydia’s heartbeat. It had begun to slow and calm.

A black hair tie held his masterpiece together.

Peter pulled her from the edge of the bed and under the covers.

He tucked her tightly and gave her forehead a gentle kiss.

Before he could walk away, Lydia’s small hand clutched against his.

“Please don’t go.” She squeaked through a hoarse voice.

“I made you a promise; I was to leave you alone…” His voice was sympathetic. He already knew that he had broken that promise the minute he felt her pain.

“I can’t stand to be alone anymore. Please promise me you’ll stay.”

He took a deep breath and released a happy sigh.

He pushed her hand back to her body and crawled under the sheets next to her.

Instantly Lydia’s small body conformed to Peter’s shape. They were like puzzle pieces that were a perfect match to fit together.

His nose buried into her wet hair with the lingering scent of mud and earth still on it. His arm draped crossed her.

“I promise, I will stay.”

Her fingers laced with his, her grip tight at first relaxed because of his warmth.

Safe and secure in Peter Hale’s protective arms, Lydia’s eyes shut heavily.

She fell asleep only seconds later.

Peter questioned his motives and actions this night but at the end of it all, he summed it up to the undeniable fact that Lydia Martin had his heart.

He would do anything for her.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was really depressed, lonely and upset when I wrote this so if it is bad, forgive me.


End file.
